


Hand In Glove

by Glass_Oceans



Series: The Ficlet Collection [120]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 01:05:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Oceans/pseuds/Glass_Oceans
Summary: Supreme Leader Kylo Ren wants to send General Hux on a diplomatic mission, with certain uniform requirements. Hux obeys, to the letter.





	Hand In Glove

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: glove kink, Hux butt

Hux paused outside the conference room door, adjusting his already impeccable uniform. Inside waited Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, who had summoned him to discuss matters of import. Taking a deep breath, Hux stepped up to the door and stepped inside. 

Ren was seated at the head of the table furthest from the door, datapads scattered on every part of the table he could reach. Hux supposed, as he stepped closer, that it should have conveyed the impression of a leader keeping on top of the information at their command, but Hux couldn’t help but think of a child given to many sheets of flimsy and not enough colouring sticks to occupy their attention. 

Hux stopped and waited for Ren to address him, keeping his eyes level with the wall of the room so as to resist the temptation to read over Ren’s notes. He wasn’t sure he’d have the self control not to try and correct them automatically, and he wasn’t willing to risk getting flung into the wall for the sake of trying to help. 

After some time, Ren finally leaned back in his chair, those his eyes remained on the table top. 

“We are expecting a delegation from the Ainides system,” he announced. “I want you to handle negotiations.”

Hux could feel his brows start to raise. “And the reason for this honour?”

“They have certain requirements which I want you to take care of.”

“Such as?”

“They believe in meeting bare headed, no adornments of any kind,” Hux’s eyes flickered to the dark metal band that encircled Ren’s head, the metal glinting in his hair as he moved, “and further, that they conduct negotiations barehanded to determine the motivations of their would-be allies.”

“Unacceptable.”

“Pardon?” Ren replied, looking up to Hux for the first time. 

“These requirements are juvenile and quite unnecessary.”

“Their race is believed to be Force sensitive, hence the requirement for contact.”

“Then you deal with them,” Hux responded, keeping his voice as reasonable as he could manage. “With your superior abilities, you could overwhelm their minds and ensure our alliance without the need for..” Hux suppressed the shudder with effort, “hand holding.”

“You refuse a command from your Supreme Leader?” Ren asked, a note of threat in his voice. 

“I refuse a command that is a waste of my time and talent both-”

“Are you so attached to your gloves that you refuse to remove them when you wear a dress uniform?”

“Are you so attached to that lump of metal that you can’t remove it for a day?”

“Enough!” Ren roared, surging to his feet. He was barely a foot away from Hux but Hux refused to give ground. “You can remove the gloves, or you can remove the whole kriffing uniform, but you will meet with this delegation by my command!”

Hux calmly settled himself into parade stance, folding his hands behind his back. 

“Very well,” he said, voice flat. “Permission to return to my quarters to prepare?”

Ren waved a hand as he sank back in his chair, paying no mind to Hux as he retreated from the room, his great coat floating behind him. He began to go through his reports again, gradually shutting down each datapad as his work was completed until only one remained lit in front of him. He glanced up and the chronometer and frowned. Hux had been gone for some time, far longer than it should have taken him to prepare, and Ren had expected to hear from him by now. 

Shutting down the last datapad, Ren growled as he stood again, stomping from the room and marching in the direction of Hux’s room. He mashed the keypad with his fist, and was mildly surprised when the door slid smoothly open. Ren stepped cautiously inside, half expecting Hux to be lying in wait, blaster drawn. 

“Ah, Supreme Leader,” Hux’s voice called from further inside his quarters, “I was hoping you could look over my attire, and deem it’s suitability for the mission.”

Ren’s frown deepened. What game was Hux playing at. 

“I’ll just be a moment longer if you’d like to take a seat.”

Ren lowered himself onto the pale blue couch, feeling more unsettled by the moment. He waited for the click of Hux’s boot heels, and was caught unawares when Hux padded barefoot into the main room. 

Hux came to a stop at the end of the couch, his bare feet standing at perfect parade spacing. Ren’s eyes were slowly drawn up his pale, bare legs, the barest dusting of red-gold hair on them seeming bright in the grey of the room. Hux still wore his gloves, a shock of black near his hips, and Ren couldn’t tell which he wanted to look at more; the gloves, somehow more obscene and tempting than if Hux’s hands were completely bare, or the fire of red hair at his crotch, nesting over a cock that even now twitched with interest under Ren’s stare. 

Lips parted, Ren forced his eyes to continue upwards, following the treasure trail of red hair up Hux’s stomach, up the taut and wiry muscle of his torso that Ren had learned not to underestimate. The glint of his dog tags lay on his chest, the silver chain bright. As Ren’s eyes reached the column of his neck, Hux twisted, his hands lifting. 

“My apologies Supreme Leader,” he replied as he removed his hat and tossed it onto his desk. “You had specified only the gloves.”

Hat removed, he rolled his shoulders back, folding his hands behind his back. 

“Now,” Hux replied, eyes sparkling, “does this suffice?”


End file.
